Beautiful Burden
by Tylec Asroc
Summary: Purpose is paramount in his life: he exists to safeguard the Controller. No one could ever come before the Guardian's sacred mission, not even this curious stranger, unable to leave the Island of Angels...
1. Intruder!

Introduction

Knuckles the Echidna and all other related characters copyrighted by Sega.

* * *

_BEAUTIFUL BURDEN  
--_

_-Written by Tylec Asroc-_

Sarah McLagchlan.  
.

I will be the answer at the end of the line.  
I will be there for you while you take the time.  
In the burning of uncertainty I will be your solid ground.  
I will hold the balance if you can't look down.  
If it takes my whole life, I won't break, I won't bend.  
It'll all be worth it…  
--Answer.

* * *

From this highest plateau he could gaze down upon the green canyons of the Marble Garden in its entirety. Here, on the slopes of the mighty Icecap, his people had built their greatest city. It bore testament to their strength and resilience, the way the columns and cathedrals stood tall on the steep walls of the mountain, the foundations rooted firmly as a forest. Even after years of abandonment, this legacy of stone could not fall; it could not be shaken, no matter the scourge of the elements or the siege of time.

Knuckles the Echidna took in the strong mountain air and let it fill his body with the strength of the city. He smiled – a rare event indeed, but it could not be avoided. To look down on this enduring civilization was absolutely inspiring! In this city, he saw what was required of him – to stand and to weather all obstacles. He would do it for his people, for their purpose: for the Controller.

The last of the Echidna closed his eyes and meditated on that great strength he was sworn to protect. As fragments, the shards of the Master Emerald had seemed like drops of water in darkness, beacons of light and sound. But here, combined into their majesty they were an overwhelming presence permeating every tree and rock and every living creature on the island. The Controller existed in the air, pulsing out from its source in waves like green fire. Knuckles could open his mind to this presence and let his eyes ride the crests of energy, allowing him to see what was impossible to a limited echidna eye. He saw all on the island.

And he saw someone unwanted.

The presence – the absence, more correctly – in the energies had come this morning with the dawn. Years ago, a plummeting Death Egg had taken him by surprise, but this Guardian, matured and steeled to an unbreakable fortress, could sense any stranger within the web of The Controller. A scattered shriek of The Emerald's song was enough to alert him and to initiate the hunt.

He had his 'guest' pinpointed: The rainforest outside this cradle of civilization. Knuckles leapt from the precipice and spread his body like a canvas, allowing the energies that let fly the Island of Angels to suspend him from the ground. A brief glide cut short and his form dropped through the treeline as a ball of spiny dreadlocks. Fists clenched, he ran down a beaten path through the trees. The stony road led to a small pool poured into the forest basin. His quarry lingered there – he would capture the trespasser and remove it. Only a few paces more and he could attack.

He grew silent now, creeping off the path and into the brush, arming himself with stealth and surprise. The Guardian knew how to hush the whispering grass as he moved, rendering him invisible despite his noble scarlet. Now, with but a pounce of his wiry legs he could dive within striking range of the form bent over the pond. He crouched at the edge of the thickets and peered through the green blades to examine his prey.

Knuckles' heart seized in his chest. His unrestrained gasp was enough to reveal his position, but just to be sure, his body thought it fit to seize up, loose its balance and tumble noisily into the clearing. She darted her head immediately and jumped away with a gasp. Even on his belly, Knuckles had a clear mind – she was going to run!

"No, Stop!" he ordered, stretching out a hand as though to grasp her. She kept backing away, darting her head about; looking for some path to run down. Knuckles had already bolted to his feet and thrown his body to block of the trail she'd come down. They were both panting; Knuckles knew he was trembling, and he spoke with all manner of urgency.

"Please, don't run," he pleaded. Never once in his life had he begged, but now, he needed to humble himself and remove all impression of hostility. He crouched until he fell beneath her height, dropping his large hands and opening them wide so she would see he held no weapons. She had folded up like a flower bud and buried her frightened face in her hands.

"I … I won't hurt you," he promised, almost too stunned to speak. "See?" he said, gesturing to his tangled spines and to the claws on his fists. "I'm just like you …"

She began to settle, and by degree she peaked up from behind her hands and inched her face up to meet his own. Her emerald eyes opened wide, and slowly her guard fell until Knuckles was looking into an exact reflection of his astonishment. But the mirror held more similarity than mere emotion.

"We're the same…" he whispered in exclamation.

"Echidna."

* * *


	2. Deepest Desires

--------------------------

So many questions and wonders and hopes of joy rifled through his mind; Knuckles did not know what to think, or what to concentrate on! With an effort he stopped, shut up his racing mind, and looked over this beautiful impossibility, focusing his hunter's eye to take in all detail. 

He began with her eyes – emerald – two radiating orbs of evergreen. Then her fur – it was soft rose, and her quills were bundled back in a loose cord that fell down her shoulders. He noticed her eyes again, and the long lashes. Those eyes so brilliantly green, they were like gemstones. He tried to focus again on her fur – on her pale muzzle and soft pink and quills so finely arranged they were blades of grass to his knotted dreadlocks. 

He suddenly hunched inward with an awkward shame on account of his filthy, wild appearance, but her eyes seemed to catch him again. He swallowed and moved his gaze away, trying to be as critical as possible. 

They stood about equal height. Her eyes were … She was clothed in a green dress of thin, whispering fabric. Green, like her ey… It looped over her shoulders and trailed down her legs. There was a misty, cloud-like quality to her gown. Over her forehead rested a beautiful circlet of coloured beads. Around her neck hung an emerald pendant. She walked barefoot. 

Her emerald eyes again. He could not keep from looking upon them, and her own wide-eyed gaze fixed back on him. She looked at him – not scrutinizing – but with innocent eyes and a mouth bent in a slight smile. It remained without definition, unable to be pinned down and analyzed, but something magnetic existed about those crystals of life and that gentle countenance. 

Knuckles was breathing heavily; his body was confused – geared up for a fight, his energy suddenly had nowhere to expel through anger. Adrenaline flew through his stomach, seeking some way out, and the awkward strength ran higher and higher until it forced a pleasant smile over his face. And with every trembling breath, his smile grew and grew until he laughed with joy! Her own smile burst into a smirk and they laughed as one! 

His laughter dimmed and his eager mind jumped at the chance to speak. "My name is Knuckles," he told her. His questions spilled out. "What is your name? Where are you from? How did you get here; are there others?" The girl smiled all the way through his interrogation. 

"I'm sorry," Knuckles apologized, then immediately continued rambling. "I just – I thought I was the last – I've never seen … well, one of us. Please, you have to tell me everything. Anything! What is your name?" 

Her smile weathered all his pestering questions. The radiant look peaked, and she took a deep breath to tell her tale. His eyes inched near. She began to form the words … Then she froze with her mouth left open. The slightest sliver of doubt came into her eyes, but she began again, positioning her mouth and pushing out the words. "Huhh…" Her tongue stopped. Her throat caught. Her eyes wavered, and she pushed her head forward, trying to get the sound out. 

"Huhh. … Huhh." Nothing came. 

Knuckles dropped into shock. "You can't speak …" The pink echidna blushed a little, but that remained her only response. 

The Guardian felt his heart sinking; the energy once struggling to find freedom poured out in excess until his joy was deflated. Mute. He looked at her again; eyes magnetized to him and face smiling dumbly. Was she smiling at the joy of kinship and a companion, or was she only giggling over some raggedy Echidna who had chattered like a foolish hedgehog for her amusement? 

His deepest desires and hopes spilled to the ground and drained into the soil, never to be reclaimed. He would never even know her name… 

Knuckles let his mind step back, and he saw her clearly. Childish eyes, foolish smile; silly pink spines – her appearance remained flawless as a perfect gemstone – but she seemed so … young … so unaware… 

And she was thin! Her arms – nothing but rod-thin twigs he could snap in half! Her clawless female hands were large, but even then, her two-fingered paw would barely cover his enormous palm. Knuckles could crush her smooth hand in his mighty fist and grind it to dust! What they shared in height, she seemed to have traded in fitness and size: A quality of crystalline delicacy hovered around this mute girl like a sickness. A breeze might shatter her. 

And here she stood – folding her hands and watching him pleasantly – blissfully unaware that they remained in a home of wild beasts. Ivo had once said something regarding a situation like this – what was it? "Like letting a cow into a fine China shop." 

Knuckles had never seen a cow, nor did he know what China happened to be, so the doctor had summed things up nicely: "You're just asking for trouble." 

He would have to move her to a safer location. First, he needed to be sure of her capabilities. "I am Knuckles," he said slowly, gesturing to himself. "You," he pointed at her nameless body. "Knuckles," back at himself. "Friend." She began mimicking his gestures and smiling proudly as she followed. 

Good, so she could hear, and understand his language. He repeated the exercise so she would know to listen when he called for you. "You. Come. Follow." He took some exemplary steps backwards and signaled that she should do the same. She copied his lead. 

"Follow." Knuckles instructed again, and turned towards the rocky road and the Marble Garden. Her dress swished and she was on his heels. 

Knuckles began to think ahead and he poured over what clues he had. Her clothing did not match the garments he had seen during his mission in Station Square; it rather reminded him of his visitations to the past. Had some force brought her to the future of Angel Island, just as Tikal had transported him to its past? Perhaps a visitation to the cities would force some recollection. 

Then he needed to develop a means of dependent communication. And then he had to know her abilities. Was speed her strength; did she rely on agility? Perhaps this echidna knew some unknown art of battle. The Controller hung forever on his mind, and he needed to know how she could best help to its defense. 

A whimper came from behind; Knuckles looked back to see her progress. A distance of some yards separated his firm pace from … from whatever kind of walk she was attempting. A ravine of sloping tree roots and uneven rocks was to Knuckles a traversable path, but this girl seemed to think otherwise. With a squirming look on her face and a desperate grip around a tree trunk, she reached out a bare toe, cautiously stretching for a flat rock that would compose her next stepping-stone. Her hold on the tree bark slipped and she squeaked as her foot scraped across the rough roots. She looked to him pleadingly, as if about to fall from the edge of the island. 

Knuckles scowled and jogged back. He grabbed her by the hips and set her safely on the stone she had been reaching for. She gazed at him adoringly. Knuckles frowned at her bare feet. There, he had all the proof that she was not meant to be in this untamed place, in this distant time. 

"Move faster," he told her. "You'll feel less. Come." He took a few steps and waited for her to follow. She looked about her surroundings uncertainly, and tried a long stride for another rock. Knuckles saw that her first step stretched too far and he doubled back, so when she did teeter and slip, he was on hand to catch her. 

He sighed. This wasn't working. "Stop, I'll take you." He cupped his paws around her back and under her knees and tipped her into his arms. She did not resist – she almost melted naturally into his grip. Her eyes smiled at him and her head snuggled into the crook of his neck. Knuckles scowled and wondered if the foolish girl had been working towards this last resort. She sighed pleasantly and wrapped her arms around his neck. Knuckles wanted to drop her – he had never held someone this closely outside of a brawl, and the stillness of her body felt strange and unsettling. 

But she was no great weight. Her body was light, and he thought he moved quicker with this girl in his arms. 

Knuckles still heard the ring of an unknown presence, and he hoped The Controller's energies would soon accept this stranger and rid his senses of danger. He would have preferred Ivo or the Hedgehog – someone he could fight and throw away – to this. This helpless stranger could not leave.   
  


--------------------------

  
  
Across the Icecap Mountain, a figure dropped to a solitary ledge of grass. Thrusting out before this hillside clearing there hung a long crag, like an arm clenched into a fist and carpeted with a field of grass – an islet to the mainland of Angel Island. Across the connecting bridge, the emerald alter stood unused. 

The figure swore. Oh well, that echidna couldn't be accused of total stupidity; he had obviously picked a new hiding place. Unfortunately, that opened up the search to every last lake, mountain slope, cavern and ancient ruin on the floating hunk of rock. 

Well then, with so many doors to choose, it seemed most reasonable to go straight to the gatekeeper. He would check his hiding place sometime.   
  


--------------------------


	3. Rising Horizons

--------------------------

  
  
Knuckles assumed the Marble Garden would cause some shock – a frightened gasp when she saw her proud city standing uninhabited, and with vines and weeds nestling into the buildings like cobwebs. But she did not cry or run or even point out a familiar house; rather, the strong ruins were something of amazement to the girl. Her peachy jaw dropped and made a sort of awestruck cooing while they walked, her head craned up, stretching to see the rooftops. She ran up to the ancient pillars and traced her little hands through the cracks and linings as though she lacked sight, not speech, and wished to absorb all her surroundings through the caress of her palms. Every building they passed presented a delightful new wonder, and she would race away from his side to examine every last stone. 

The little angel seemed to have not the slightest appreciation that the ruins were rigged with traps. Merrily she ran across a trip-cord that dropped a spike-tipped pillar from an overhang. Knuckles only just dived in time to knock her away before the weight slammed into the ground. He kept his paw tethered around her tiny wrist after that. 

When her belly began to growl – and she began to giggle at the rumbling noises – he took her to a towering termite colony for food. Thankfully she had no objections to their dining – hedgehogs, he'd learned, had not the all-embracing palette required to live in the wilderness, but she accepted the wriggly insects he scooped out from a hole. Knuckles tried to show her how to reach in and take food for herself, but her hands were clumsy and she would take pause to examine the crawling creatures as they squirmed along her arm and fell between her open fingers. The guardian wanted to scream at her for being so stupid and wasting food but her whimpering emerald eyes held his anger to growls. 

He took her underground, into one of the archives, and showed her a map of the island painted into the wall, explaining what it meant. He pointed to the city, "Here," and traced his way to the pond in the rainforest. "Here. You: Where before?" 

She squinted at the illustration. Carefully, she raised her glass-like paw and touched the blue space of the pond. "Pool," Knuckles explained. She zigzagged up to the next point. "City. Now backwards." She retraced her markings, sliding back to the blue puddle. 

Her hand jumped and mashed on the opposite side of the island. She smiled proudly, and waited for his inspection. "The Red Mountains," Knuckles noted. Her eyes lifted hopefully. 

Knuckles snorted. "This was a waste." This precious little thing could not have survived five minutes in a zone of hot lava and active volcanoes. "It's just a picture to you." He grabbed her hand and took her further, to some writing tables. 

Knuckles took one of the pens Ivo had so kindly donated in lieu of trinkets and beads and wrote his name in Echidna runes on a pad of paper bearing the doctor's logo. He pointed to the symbols. "Knuckles," he explained, gesturing to himself and then the paper to demonstrate they represented one and the same. He gave her the writing instrument, positioned it in her hand and told her, "Your name." 

She became so focused that her face trembled. She pressed the pen down as he'd shown and drew the markings. The first sound was a _K_. Kay … he tried to guess the rest: Kira, Kanna? Next came _N_. Enn… K-N; he hoped the name was pronounceable. Then she drew a figure which he distinguished as a shaky _U_. Yoo. K-N-U… 

He tore the paper away as soon as he recognized the _C_. He ripped her copying to dust and he whipped the pen from her hand, flinging into a corner. "Is this a game to you?" he raged. "Do you enjoy this, this… do you like _mocking_ me?" She retreated at his snarling approach. "You can't talk, you can't write – you don't even have a name! I should throw you off the island, you weak, useless…" Her eyes would not let him continue. They were filled with fear. 

Knuckles swiped his fist. Her body screamed. He hammered away until the wooden corner of the desk smashed to the floor. Rage seethed through his nostrils. He pointed his claws at her. "Don't follow me. Don't ever let me see you again." His dreadlocks whipped as he stormed out of the room.   
  
**

……….

**   
  
Outside he screamed at the wind and pummeled his fists into the dirt, raking away the ground. Alone. Born alone and this was the one mercy he was granted: a stupid mute. A hedgehog to torment him, a friend who betrayed him, and now this helpless fool! By The Controller, he hated this place and this life! Hunger and darkness – nothing but hunger and darkness! "It's not fair!" He screamed, wishing the Emerald might hear him. 

"You are nothing but a burden!" he seethed through his wet eyes. 

The Master Emerald could detect an imbalance of outsiders, but also the instability of those familiar. And now, Knuckles could hear The Controller around him, caught in a gray song of heartache. The Emerald shattered in distress thanks to all the rage he had channeled. Attacked by its protector. 

The very power he had pledged his life to – and he was the one to pain it so. Knuckles fell to the ground with shards of glass crashing in his ears. Once again it all came to failure… 

Then he raised his head up at the metropolis of stone and vines. He saw it stand, he saw it carry on and knew he had to do the same. The Echidna stood against the load pressing him down and forced a grim walk. _To weather all obstacles. To stand against all. To endure._

Such was the life of a Guardian. So be it. He would not cry or fall to pieces – he would take whatever came, and he would make it work for him. The misshapen, the ugly; the incomprehensible – he would fit them together in some patchwork of harmony. It was all he could to.   
  
**

……….

**   
  
The archive doors creaked open and the penitent Guardian stepped inside. Hearing the faint sob, and the resonating drop of The Controller made his fur itch. Whether from the musty books or his soiled skin, he did not know, but there was a rank stench of something filthy. He approached her huddled body and fell to his knees. 

He had spoken this only twice before and the words still stuck to the roof of his mouth. "I'm … sorry." 

Thrice, his heart was pierced. Though he held the power to crush her, now he did not have the strength to even look at her. 

She continued to sniff, but her emerald eyes looked up at him. 

"I wanted too much." Tainted: the final generation, obliged to rise above all desire, to be a protector and a guardian; to reveal this sin crushed him all the worse. No better than his fathers, than Pachacamac. 

"I didn't expect … _you_. I grew angry – I … wanted more from you. Answers. Help." Knuckles shuddered. 

His voice shrank to a whisper. "Please, I… I don't want to be alone. If you never speak, you'll still be more to me than I've ever had." 

She looked up. Her paw reached out, and touched his own. A smile was returning to her eyes. Knuckles took her palm and wrapped it in his mighty fist. Her remaining palm clasped over this. 

Together, they stood. "Come on," Knuckles smiled. "You need some shoes."   
  


--------------------------

  
  
The Master Emerald resonated peacefully. On the shores of Hydrocity Lake, the nameless girl giggled and chased butterflies down the grassy bank while Knuckles watched her from the shade of a tree. They had taken the teleporter system to Ivo's old launch base to forage through old robot carcasses for materials. The shock of having one's molecules broken and reassembled had left her dizzy and sick, so the journey to this deep basin took place on foot (and more than half the trip, it was by _his_ foot). At least on the lakeshore there dwelled no rocks or roots to harm her, and she could have her fill of running and exploring while he wove sandals from strips of tree bark, wiring and the rubber of old tires. 

The flurry of activity came in timely interruptions and bade his eyes follow: He gazed at the glad spirit chasing squirrels through the grass with cheerful abandon. He watched the giddy nymph flop to the ground and bathe in the golden sun. He heard her utter an exclamation of joy when she spied some wild flowers. He observed her drop to hands and knees and shuffle cautiously for the sunny blossom – so careful not to disturb one leaf – and with all matter of delicacy, she reached her nose to the yellow buttercup and sniffed gently. She bounded upright with a squeal and fell over in a happy daze as the heady scents tickled her nose. 

He envied her, so relaxed and without worry. 

Knuckles set his work aside and returned to the mystery of her name. At some point the child had to grow beyond _Her_ or _You_. Could he assign her some identity, at least in his mind, until the day came that she could communicate her true self? 

What name would he give her? Immediately, he his mind leapt to _Tikal_, but he quietly smiled that choice away. Though she dressed as a princess should, he beheld no leader of Echidna. She did not have that strength of belief, that commitment to ideals or the silent maturity that had raised Tikal above even the males of great strength. She was not Tikal. 

Knuckles realized how very few female names he knew, and how he had met even fewer members of this opposite sex. But he went through each one, judging their similarities and merits. 

_Thief._ She had no other name in his mind, no other title to her credit. That was not who this child was. 

_Sarah._ No, that girl had been a sad, miserable thing – A wraith eating away at herself until she lingered hollow and dead. This echidna was nothing if not joy. 

_Amy._ This one made him hesitate, for he recognized a same merry laughter and careless attitude. To her bonus, they were both pink. But Amy was ignorant – this girl drank in everything around her. 

Were those all he knew? He thought hard, searching his memories for another female of name. His fanged mouth suddenly cracked into a grin. 

_Sonic._

When his howling laughter heaved its last teary excess over the lakeshore and a final sigh grounded his mind, he understood that none of these names would suit her. He could not fit her into the frame of another; he could not judge her as someone else – this girl was just _herself._

She was innocence – newborn purity and innocence. She was unsullied and her mind was fresh. She would not last long alone – his yelling alone proved enough to make her crumple – so vulnerable and fragile. This morning she had been stupid and ignorant, but now he saw that so much excitement and life teemed in her mind. She feared nothing – everything was to be tasted and touched; nothing was out of reach. Her every waking moment filled with unbridled joy at the life around her. Only when she waded too far and saw that the way home was lost did she begin to worry. 

And at this moment, she once more traveled beyond her limits. The cool waters had found her attention, and she was striding through the lake with her skirt bubbling to the water's surface. She bounced in past her knees, past her hips, _past her head._ A sinkhole pulled her under. Knuckles bolted into action. 

A minute later, he surfaced with her gasping head. Her hands grabbed at his shoulders and tried to climb higher, immersing him in the process. Knuckles ducked under, let her drop and repositioned, looping his arm through her elbows and dragging her back to shore. 

He laid her on the lakeside meadow and waited until she coughed out all the water to scold her. "You can't just go run out as far as you like!" he barked. "The water grows deeper, and you can't swim. Hey, look at me!" He raised her chin to his gaze. "You be careful, and you stay close to the shore, you got that? This is the shore," he tamped the grass with his foot, "and you keep close. Understand?" 

Her fingers ran through the greens while her eyes noted the differences of water. She nodded, downcast. 

With a grim sigh, Knuckles bent over to smooth the bangs out of her face. "Soon the sun will set. You had better run around and dry off before it gets cold." 

She scampered off obediently, stumbling over her heavy skirt. Knuckles walked back to his shady spot where he could watch her. 

Not ignorant, just unaware. And such blissful purity was not permanent: the more she saw, the more she would gather for herself and grow. Knuckles immersed himself in memories: a fruitless search, walking the roads of Station Square and dodging the morning traffic. What revelation he had experienced, what safety he had enjoyed, when he finally looked to the side of the paved roadways and discovered he could walk unmolested by vehicles _on the sidewalk!_

He returned to the task of his needlework. This girl had so much to learn…   
  


--------------------------

  
  
Electronic binoculars with a zooming magnification function brought the couple into perfect detailed view. The figure spied on their conversation, reading what speech was comprehensible on their lips, and crawled away from the cliff face when they separated. 

To the side, a rushing waterfall plunged from this highest shelf, feeding the lake below. At the moment, it served as a riverside camp, with fancy surveillance technology scattered around the ledge. But now came the time to pack up and depart. By some funny luck, the figure had gone unnoticed all day – last time the echidna had pounced almost immediately. The secret observer decided not to push this gift any further. It had taken months to find the island once more, and it would be foolish to ruin the opportunity by rushing things. Stealth and observation were crucial. 

A camouflaged ship waited in a swamp of overgrown mushrooms, but before the figure set out for this base camp, she stopped and gave a final glance at the echidnas. Some might have witnessed a touching display of care. Some might have seen the warmth of a parent. Rouge the Bat saw only one thing as Knuckles spoke to the unfamiliar girl: Leverage.   
  


--------------------------

  
  
By The Controller, this girl was fragile! Knuckles sprinted across the lakeside with his sewing in hand, following her squeaks and calls. 

Her dress had become caught in a tangle of brambles. Already, the skirt bore slashes from the thorns, and in further spots it was hooked into the branches. She tugged at her clothing, crying because her efforts were hopeless and because she only tore her skirt further. The child looked at him pleadingly. 

The veins in Knuckles' head throbbed. He growled. "Can't you stay safe without me just a minute?" He bent down and looked over the mess. "Here, be still … Stop it! Stop pulling, you're only making it worse!" She only kept crying, as though a piece of herself were being torn. 

Knuckles threw her hands off the fabric and warned her to stay put. Then he removed his gloves and put his two fingers to the delicate work of plucking the dress off the peg-board of thorns. The fabric surprised him – it felt rough despite its royal appearance. While he worked, he took the hem of her dress to close inspection and found it sewn of tiny green beads, like little droplets of crystal. 

The last hole came unbuttoned. Down she dropped to the ground, clutching her tattered skirt in a terrible shock. Knuckles only scrunched his face up. Such a thin, flimsy thing – with all the running and exploring she did, this was bound to happen. He could stitch it up, but it would not retain its perfect cut. 

"It's wrecked," he shrugged. Why did she always fall to pieces like this? She whimpered at him and he cringed and rolled his eyes, wishing very much that she could rise above this. "I can fix it," he said yieldingly, "but later. … Come: stand up. I can at least get all the dirt off." 

She stood and he brushed the brown soot off her rags. He gestured and told her to turn around, and he repeated, wiping his hand to pick off the excess dirt. Should he risk sending her to the lake to wash off? He spun her around once more. 

The dress was restored. Knuckles jerked his head back. He grabbed the fabric and pulled it close to his eye. Perfect – as if that tapestry of beads had hooked itself back together. He looked up at her face incredulously, but she only gave him one of her excited smiles. She pulled away and twirled for herself, letting her skirt funnel in the air. 

"How did that happen!?" Knuckles demanded. And why did he still expect answers from her? There was only the excited twinkling of the Controller to respond. 

Eventually her celebrations dimmed and he was able to call her back to business. "These had better fit," Knuckles muttered quietly as he slipped the sandal over her bare foot. The sole was black rubber and a thong weaved its way around her toes and up her shin. He'd wove the rope soft to the best of his skills, and the only trouble seemed to be the overcompensating twine that spun far too high around her thin leg. He snapped it down to length. 

The girl stood up and wiggled her toes, testing the strange new material on her skin. At his insistence, she took some explorative steps. It pleased Knuckles to see the sandals fitting so well. 

The child thought otherwise. Her paws dived to her legs and scratched the rope furiously. She raised a foot and seized the black sole in her hands, trying to pull the shoe off, but her attempts were just as hopeless as the brambles. She fell over with a squeak. 

"Stop it," Knuckles ordered. "You have to wear those!" The girl squirmed and itched her legs as though the ropes were chains binding up her limbs. With a pleading whimper over her face she looked to him for release. He returned with his darkest scowl. He had worked long on those sandals and he would not just throw off this necessity over her discomfort. 

"No," he said coldly. "Get up and start walking." 

In the end he had to drag her to their next destination, a fruit grove, to replenish on water and food. He tried teaching her how to peel the fruit but she was moody and distracted by her chaffing sandals. Oh, but she took the food he gave – she gobbled it all down, that walking stomach. 

The Master Emerald, it seemed, had taken some special liking to this girl, judging by the way her mood resonated in The Controller's melody. Glum and pained came the song, prickling Knuckles' senses. He still detected that blot of energy, and he wondered how The Emerald reacted so strongly to this girl, this anomaly, without accepting her into its grasp. 

But presently, there remained physical necessities to concern with. The sun was descending below the Island of Angels, heating the mountains to a red glow and filling the sky with gold. He wanted to put the girl away somewhere safe before darkness – she would only be dead weight on his night patrols. So they walked higher through the forest overgrowth and towards the sheer cliffs that fed Hydrocity. 

The waterfalls had carved many caverns into the solid stone, and he scaled these rock walls to reach a high and deep tunnel in which to deposit his companion for the evening. Knuckles, of course, was the one to do the work. The thin girl wrapped her petite arms around his neck and hugged her body close as he dug handholds with his fists and took them higher and higher above the forest floor. Her clinging grip impressed a good pain into his windpipe, but once more, he felt stronger – lighter perhaps – while she embraced him. 

But at last his paws hooked over the desired ledge and he hoisted their two bodies onto the overhang, where he could finally take in a full gulp of air again. Knuckles clapped the dirt from his gloves and sat down for a rest. The girl scooted over to join him and mimicked his pose, knees dangling over the edge and body propped back on her hands. She looked in awe at the shower of water blasting the rocky lake and the jungle that stretched out below. 

"It's a good spot to watch someone from," he told her. 

Knuckles pointed down and to the right. "See that bridge?" 

He suddenly thought better of it, and seized her neck before she could lean over any more. "Never mind. But there is a bridge on a lower level. Everyone who comes to the island always uses it. And all I have to do is press a switch and it collapses." He held out his paw flat and dropped his fingers like a hinge. "Drowned rats," he declared proudly. 

She followed his story with the mixed look that was either attentive or blank. After a pause she began to scratch again. 

"Fine!" he grunted, and tugged the strings open and pulled her feet free. He flung the sandals into the back of the cavern. 

Knuckles sighed wearily, and thought over his wasted day where so much had been disrupted by this girl: not a single patrol made since early morning, the traps in Sandopolis had gone unchecked, that mountain teleporter still required repairs and he had not copied a single rune from the withering libraries. His one accomplishment was sewing rope through strips of rubber and giving a rash to this newcomer. What a waste. 

Would he spend the rest of his days rescuing this helpless fool from brambles and traps? There was a thought to loose sleep over! 

They sat together, hard, stony scarlet and creamy, wide-eyed rose, and watched the gold of the sky rust, and then dim to an ocean blue while the heat of the mountains cooled to dark embers. "Come, you have to rest." 

Inside the cave lay blankets – mats really, some of his better work weaving palm fronds into a mesh. He swept the pebbles out of a long, flat space and wrapped her in the leafy coverings. The ferns must have been rougher than the sandals, but she did not protest – her eyes were so heavy. 

"You stay here, understand? If you get up, you'll fall off the cliff." The little sprite bobbed her tired head and stretched in a deep yawn. Knuckles saw that further instructions would pass right over her, so he made sure she would stay warm, tucking her blankets under her tired feet. 

She did not close her eyes just yet – those drowsy little orbs followed him in his last preparations, and when he leaned over to tuck her covers above her shoulders, she raised her head and gave his cheek a quick kiss. 

Knuckles bolted up and scrambled away. In the dimming light his eyes were two round saucers staring incredulously at the girl. Her eyes closed and a warm smile persisted as she dozed away. 

The Guardian shuffled back, shocked at this breach of distance, angered by her disregard for space; outright offended that she just go up and touch his face, as though she presumed some authority over him! That she supposed she had every right and will to do so! 

He slumped against the cave, burning over the touch – the trespass – the crowning insult to his lost day. He looked at her sleeping beauty. She would enjoy that sleep, but at whose expense? He knew what she was – She was a parasite: feeding off his strength and energy while she remained stupid and simple! By the Controller! 

He simmered and sizzled and eventually settled into a compromise. The Emerald stood undefiled; the island still flew above the dark oceans. The day had not been the routine and order he considered as success, but perhaps today had been productive. 

Once more his eyes addressed this painful new companion – head snuggled in the crook of an arm, her knees huddled up and that smile of perfect contentment plastered over her face – and his frustration melted away. Even when closed, those innocent eyes were wonderful. To see her safe and at peace carried an appeal so filling. Fulfilling. 

He sat back with a smile on his mind. Yes, today had been a good day… 

Knuckles suddenly froze. What if she did wake up, and stumbled out the entrance? What if something came in – a nocturnal lizard or snake that crawled up to the warmth of her body – and struck when she woke and touched the feral animal? What if the cave should crumble this very night, and bury her in an eternal sleep? 

He suddenly lost all desire to make a nightly patrol. He stormed over to the entrance and sat himself down with his arms across his chest and his eyes staring zealously into the night. He always slept sparingly – for him, this was still the middle of his day – and today, he would plant himself and not budge till sunrise. 

Here laid everything he needed to guard. 

The stars surfaced from the darkness, and the Master Emerald twinkled restfully with their light.   
  


--------------------------


	4. New Dawn

--------------------------

  
  
She woke late in the morning when the sun had cleared the mountain peaks, trickling streams of gold into the cavern. The brush of light tickled her face and soothed the sleep away. With a flutter of eyelashes and a long, stretching yawn she sat up, blinking in her surroundings. Bright happiness fixed over her face when their eyes met. 

Knuckles chewed his lip and snorted, his day already spoiled by the hours lost watching her sleep. Waking for sunshine, but not his summons! Oblivious to his hostility, the girl threw away her blanket and scooted across the stone floor to sit and stare in his face with a curious smile. His eyes betrayed a small shock, then with a snaky hiss, the guardian inched himself up against the cavern wall to keep some distance. Today, he promised, would mark the end of his leniency – the island called for his attention and he would not let her consume any more of his time. 

Meanwhile, the child countered his retreat by shuffling closer until their knees touched, and the strong echidna jerked at their proximity. The pinned guardian kept his back rigid against the wall as she leaned her young features forward. A cornered animal for all intents and purposes, Knuckles snorted and hissed in her face, causing the girl to dip back and blink. She regarded her scowling protector from their small separation, lips pursed and considering his actions. He had only a small reprieve. Something flickered in her eyes, and with a great smile, she dived into his face again, (their wet noses only a twitch apart!) and blew a puff of air back in return. 

Knuckles finally creaked one eye open, daring to see if it was over. The girl gave one of her silent giggles, pleased that she had learned this game, and shuffled off to explore the mouth of the cave. The guardian remained like stone, befuddled by her oddness and wondering why his face felt hot and flush. From the cavern entrance, she sparkled in the new sun; her face was turned back with the look of optimism. 

He scowled and straightened up, invincible once more. "We're leaving," he nodded, fending off the questions in her eyes. Before he joined her, he considered the sandals woven the other day, discarded in on cavern floor. With a grunt, he swept them aside. The guardian had intended that she wear her footwear this day, but all forceful arguments were lost on him. Like petals from a dandelion, his anger was exhaled on a stream of wind.   
  


**……….**

  
  
There came another straining climb with a squeaky satchel of curiosity wrapped around his neck; then the memorable sloppiness of the termite mounds. Knuckles muttered aloud that she would grow to be resourceful, though the question of when pestered him like a buzzing gnat with every pulse of blood that shot through his weary temples. 

The travel to the old forest took a painful hour without the teleporter system and with the girl's distractible nature, but with a great sigh, they finally entered the mossy canopy, propped up above their heads by trees so exactly vertical they were a system of pillars above the spiky undergrowth. The bark on these ancient relics was so thick it seemed to be gouged in alternating canyons and cliffs, with roots crawling into the ground like bulging veins. Knuckles seized her hand and walked briskly, ever wary that to scamper off in the wrong direction would lead to a drop down the cliffs outside these trees. 

No objections came to her restraint. In fact, her skipping and prancing suddenly dampened, and Knuckles felt the protective squeeze of his fist returned with a worried grasp. She too sensed a marked change in the scenery she so loved – something unnatural. The air had a heavy heat to it, and ahead the shady trees filtered a strong, white aura. Perhaps she took the cue to worry simply by reading his stern face – angered a touch more as they approached the light. 

Then they entered a ring of hot sun where the mud was cracked dry and the thin leaves shriveled on curled branches. Here was the worrisome aura – the trees were dying. 

The child squeezed his paw tight. Their leaves were meager and brown, scorched by disease while the branches twisted and bent like aged bones. Knuckles did not know the source of this infection, but he had watched this sickly halo spread as the mighty timbers wilted and bore holes through the jungle roof. The roots he'd torn out only added to the naked patches in the skyline. 

Extraction – that was the only solution. So Knuckles sat his dazed companion on an uprooted log and (after repeated monologues insisting she stay put, because as soon as he turned, she would follow) the guardian returned to his earlier work of tearing out the invalids. 

Bark splintered like shrapnel under the blows of his fists. He beat the old fellow savagely and, when he had hacked deep enough, pushed over the dying flora for a thundering crash that made the girl jump from her spot and step away. Knuckles took a few shaking pants of air, then crouched to seize the venous stump. Out it tore in one upward heave, dirt shaking loose from its woody tendrils. Knuckles threw it aside, pleased with this morning's warm-up. 

He was watched with elevated eyebrows and a dismayed stare. Why he would tear up the tree was beyond the girl; her disheartened stare branded him criminal. So he beckoned her over to inspect the fallen timber. The saddened girl obeyed, but tread cautiously, moving to the corpse with the same unease shown to an expiring mammal. Perhaps, he mused, she could also sense the Controller, and the pained song it sang among these dying ancients. 

Scarlet and rose, they crouched over the tree. "Look. Over here," he grunted with a tap of his paw, pointing out the sunken black cankers growing over the bark, the mark of the disease. 

The delicate girl leaned closer, taking a thin paw and trailing it towards the mountain ash. Her fingers dipped into the rotting depression, touching the sticky, amber ooze that bled from these wounds. Knuckles observed her innocent eyes, and how they rose up with understanding – these black spots were the offenders. Her slow revelation revived the memory of his own discovery weeks ago, but she mirrored with the marked absence of anger. Instead, the girl grew upset with sorrow. So markedly touched was she by the loss of life, it seemed as though her eyes had darkened with black cankers of their own. 

Then her eyes darted up at the grove of withering beauty, and to her protector. Knuckles nodded. _All of them._ In a small slump of the body, her spirit collapsed. Unaccustomed to the sight, Knuckles squinted oddly and shuffled nervously while the music of the Controller accompanied her breaking heart. 

She got up and walked for the trees, compassion on her face and concern in her quick tread. Knuckles rose, eyeing her guardedly for escape, but she moved only as far as the nearest tree. They shared an equal height, but the guardian suddenly felt smaller to his gentle ward, back arched and glowing with a strong will. _Where did she learn to move with such purpose?_ She reached around to the nearest marks of sickness, and pressed her palms into the bark. 

A wave of energy split Knuckles through the brain. He screamed, hammered to the ground by an onslaught like ocean waves, drowning in a burst of incredible power! He had to clench his eyes shut, and even so his vision was blasted with the supernova of chaos energy. 

It was like a pillar of viridian light racing up the tree, pouring through its branches and crackling into every sickened leaflet. The crystalline voice of Master Emerald trembled in altissimo range, ready to shatter. Its beauty was so intense, so present; the guardian was writhing at the power exploding his senses. He'd crawled with this same pain all his encounters with Chaos and with every concentrated burst of energy the monster commanded. Seven servers before, but now – The _Controller_ itself was being _warped_ – the energy it radiated twisting into tornado funnels, channeling into the mountain ash like electricity blasting into a lightning rod, overwhelming … 

The show of power cut off. Knuckles bolted upright, wobbled and then staggered through the afterglow of chaos to grab the girl. He froze. 

Her paper-thin palms released the tree, and she turned around with a deep, refreshing sigh. Her large eyes darted about excitedly, looking up and brightening with the new shade above. 

_The new shade._ Knuckles squinted at the dark blot before the sun. The leaves – they had grown fresh! The branches pulled themselves taught and the trunk breathed a healthy shine. The tree was restored! 

Knuckles would have stood there, dumbfounded behind a reflexive scowl, but the giddy jingle of emerald chimes roused his attention, praising the work of this rosy sprite. The guardian burst over to the bubbly nymph and took her tiny hands, examining the traces of chaos that still trickled through his emerald-vision. _How is this possible?_ The day before she had returned her evergreen dress to new perfection; now she had restored life to this tree! She could control chaos energy! 

"How do you do this?" Once more he gained no answer – his incarnation of joy merely danced out of reach and skipped around the mossy timber, delighting in its shade and the soft earth. Yes – truly this was a time of celebration, but as protector of these lands Knuckles could only find anger and irritation at this miracle beyond his understanding. While the girl twirled through the tree boughs, the stalwart guardian approached the site of transformation and meditated on the events transpired. The girl continued her merriment, skipping deeper into the forest. 

The bands of energy were still uncoiling themselves – like ripples in a pond they'd been distorted under a guiding hand, but how? Chaos, that watery creation of the Controller could bend the Servers to his will, harnessing the power of one where others required all seven. Shadow, spawn of Gerald, could call forth similar powers, but that man-made immortal could still do pitiful little – a teleport, a lightning strike, a burst of speed. Knuckles himself – bathed in the light of the Controller since birth, had never known such ability, had never called on such power in such strength as his nameless child. 

He tried to focus on her energies as she moved; surprising himself that he sensed both the grand tower of strength that healed the tree as well as that nuisance of blackness that had pestered him throughout the night. His eyes opened with alarm. _It was never her._

The repercussions flooded his heart. Quickly, he shut out the world to concentrate once more. 

_All morning I could sense it…_ Flitting about his head like an insect, impossible to pin down, to catch. _But not her. She was so familiar to me._ And still… _All this morning, that absence felt near. But not her…_ even though it pulsed so incredibly close to her energy, like some airborne scavenger waiting to dive down and… 

He swore he heard the girl scream, but there was no way to confirm, for at the same moment the Master Emerald let loose a deafening shriek. 

Knuckles bolted after the girl. He could sense that energy void as he sprinted – now a dark coil winding around a great power as a snake wrapped round its prey. A brief struggle came from the trees ahead, and Knuckles followed the filthy darkness and the filthy sound of that hated, frivolous laughter. 

"Echidna." The poisonous charms smiled as he ploughed on to the scene. "You found another girl? _Really,_ I'm hurt!" 

His breath was hot, his fangs were clenched and his eyes were drowning with murderous flecks of red. Seething fiery anger, he hissed out _"Thief!"_

Rouge the Bat raised a smug face and blew him a kiss. "Treasure hunter, sweetie. You should know I'm first-class." From between the coveting embrace of her arms squirmed the girl, terrified and pleading for help. The Master Emerald shook the air with terror. 

"Isn't she sweet?" The bat nuzzled her nose into the child's hair, cuddling the girl in some twisted perversion of motherhood and making him jerk. "Maybe I'll keep her?" 

Knuckles didn't bother to listen. The Thief! Why had he been so stupid as to ignore the signals? Rage zeroed his vision on the smarmy white bat and he stomped forward with murder on his mind. 

The bat dropped the games and drew her body up. "Stop it, echidna!" She clutched the girl like a shield. The thief had more to say – warnings to keep distance, but the guardian stopped only to scoop a rock from the ground. The silent mewling of his charge filled his mind with righteous anger. 

The Controller screamed again! Muscles clenched – sharing the pain of the great power, Knuckles staggered and fell to the forest floor. The bat held her captive's arm, ready to twist again. 

"You _stay_ there," she ordered, feminine sweetness cast aside to show her true self. The bat ran her filthy claw down the girl's hair, reaching the end of the ponytail. "Such a delicate little thing," she purred, yanking back the child's head; sending another blast through the Controller's energy field. 

The thief hissed viciously. "It would be a shame if I _broke_ her!" 

Threats only challenged his temper. Knuckles snarled and ground the dirt in his paws, advancing on the invader that dared to touch the child he protected. 

Another wrench of the arm forced Knuckles to stop – the pain, the chaos was overwhelming! He'd nearly blacked out with each quick shattering of the Master. Now, he felt as though the great crystal were being hammered with a nail that was this child – slowly, painfully splintering! 

Where once joy smiled, Knuckles found confusion and fear. She wasn't supposed to be this way; he needed to move forward and correct this wrong; restore her smile. But her altered face now held an even greater power over his will. 

The bat-devil smiled at the obedience rendered. "You'll give me back _my emerald_, echidna! I'll take good care of her until you do." Rouge stroked the girl with her claws, scaring her, pressing her in, making her chest pant and eyes water for release. Her eyes begged for him… 

That crossed the threshold. Feral light in his eyes, Knuckles charged with a scream. Before the snarling beast of an echidna could bite, Rouge crushed the girl to her chest and bolted. He snapped at her heels, screaming and clumsy in his rage. Light quickly approached from beyond the trees. Knuckles knew what lay beyond. 

Rouge snapped her wings open and pumped off the cliff. Knuckles skidded and wobbled through the pebbles, nabbing a tree trunk to stop his tumble. Debris dribbled down the sheer drop, into the maw, into the mushroom hills far below. The seething guardian held his life by a few branches and a footing of roots while the kidnapper glided over the valleys, wings stretched to the length of an albatross. She didn't need to flap much, but every pump of her leathery glider propelled her farther and higher than his slowed descents could possibly compete against. 

Knuckles flung himself into the woods and exploded. He tore into the trees, smashed his fists into everything solid that resembled the thief. He destroyed the forest until his gloves were torn and his fists were bleeding. Then he collapsed to his knees: face hot, chest choking down the emotions that threatened to consume him. He clenched his eyes, coughing and gasping. A meek whimper gurgled from his jaw. _I failed._ Still he could see her; still he could hear the shared catastrophe of the Master Emerald. One hand shoved into his mouth, biting back the pain; the other slammed the ground while his heart beat like a war drum. 

_Enough,_ his mind snapped at the peak the tribal beat. Jaw locked, he looked at his hands, disgusted by this weakness, by these seconds of inaction. That girl was under his protection – he knew what had to be done. 

_I am guardian of Angel Island: Protector of the Controller and all under its realm. I will not be shaken!_

That winged Siren was back. He knew his duty: _Wage war upon all invaders. _Retrieve the Master from the lava reef? He would die before she set her claws upon the Controller once more. _And she will kill the girl unless I obey._

That weak, fragile burden of a girl… 

He suddenly didn't care how mute or blind or lame she was. He didn't care how many times he had to correct her, how many instances he would have to protect her; he didn't care how much of his life he had to bleed away to keep her alive. 

She was his burden, and no one would remove the joy she pained him with. 

Knuckles dived into the trees, searching for the proper bush. He found the thick cluster he sought and waded to the ruby teleporter lens concealed beneath. He had the duty of heritage and love to fulfill. 

He set the dials and vanished to the armories of Sandopolis …   
  


--------------------------


	5. High Noon

--------------------------

  
  
He had no chance of toppling her. Rouge clacked her heels across the stone courtyard, eyes sharp and examining every last pillar and slab of the abandoned city. Her footsteps moved through the sanctuary with unquestioned authority, like a queen surveying her castle. She faced her kingdom with a dull and fearless indifference, though with the passing hours, a slight sneer of impatience had etched into her ivory-chiseled visage. The electronics in her green visor could find no sign of the echidna. 

Wind tugged at her ears and over the raw brickwork of the mountain city spread above the cloud-cover. If the island was a ship sailing the icy sky then these aerial ruins were a crow's nest to the vessel. On this highest plaza of the weed-infested cathedrals and spires she would catch his approach; she was prepared for every outcome. 

She marched to the next overhang, mentally practicing the coming exchange of goods. A cold stone flicked from her fingers, flew off the walls of her fort and skipped down one of the steep pathways connecting the broken ruins. Wind and gravity dribbled it down to lower scaffoldings and into the maw of mist surrounding the peaks. That swine would waste all his energy climbing to meet her. Now if only the girl would scream, instead of whimpering mutely, the deal would close without a hitch! 

The bat strolled to center-stage, to her bartering piece, all puffy-eyed and wriggling against her shackles as if her few chains were suffocating. Rouge seized an arm and dug in her nails once again, just enough to panic the girl into tears and keep the meat prime for sympathy. She moved back to her patrols, wondering if she could commission a dress just like the gem worn by the girl. 

Underneath the whip of wind her ears caught the scuffle of sand. Rouge spun around. The echidna – dropped into a crouch – on her platform. 

"You perfect gentleman!" she scoffed, nose up and eyes half-closed. "Sneaking up on a lady?" 

She yawned. "How rude." Behind her icy exterior she was cursing. How dare he! Creeping around to surprise her – she had expected as much. She had also expected to catch him first, yet he simply popped out of nowhere as if he'd teleported! _Time for reassessment._

To her back, the girl. Prowling closer, the echidna. Rouge stood at center point of a dangerous triangle, one quickly shrinking as a snarling animal stomped for the child, swinging his fists. The bat kept her face smug and selected a slow, slinking walk to close the distance on her hostage – the brute would heel so long as she could shatter that delicate crystal doll. 

Her eyes raked the thug from head to toe. She hissed, unable to spy the compacted beauty. "Well! Where's my emerald?" Then Rouge cocked a mischievous eye and purred. "Or are you my consolation prize?" 

With only a few steps before she could squeeze her pawn, Rouge noticed the oversized fists, now swelled to boulder-like proportions and apparently holding barbells. He wore heavy, metallic gloves encasing his hands like concrete: thick spikes over his knuckles and metal bricks framing the leather skin. 

She looked to his eyes, saw the feral madness cracking his amethyst concentration, and realized his tread didn't angle, didn't sidestep for the girl. He was coming for her.   
  


**……….**

  
  
The thief blocked his first punches, whipping her legs to intercept each blow. But his fists clenched new strength, enough to unsteady her kicks and force her off-balance. Knuckles shoved his hammer-gloves into her gut, smashing the bat off her feet with a ringing clang of metal. She thumped and rolled along the ground with rough velocity and did not rise. 

Willing away rage, he crouched by the girl's side, inspecting her face for harm. Tears scarred her eyes, but he saw a brightness returning that calmed him. Knuckles moved to the bronze shackles pinning her wrists and tore them apart, quickly reaching for her ankles. A sharp growl stopped him. 

The bat was bent over her chest, wheezing in attempt to stand. The girl, with a leap of her eyes, latched on to his arm and hugged tight; Knuckles eased her fingers away, and stepped up to meet his enemy. 

When she managed to stand, he noticed the metal sheen that had saved her life. The heart over her chest was an armored breastplate; the dent mashed over her abdomen her only injury. Her entire suit was protected, he observed, with metal plating strapped over every limb – metal boots, metal gauntlets and a belt holstered with weaponry. 

Without a blink she charged to pay back the blow, throwing her heels down like hatchets. Sparks exploded where metal fist and steel boot collided. 

"Freak!" she seethed between attacks. "You've ruined my life for the last time!" 

Knuckles swung his fist and tore the air before her nose. The swipe of wind alone was enough to make her wobble and her eyes dart open. The bat hopped back, fangs barred while the guardian shifted to a ready stance. Rouge snarled and studied her opponent, her disguises and masks dropped and emotion playing freely on her face. Only by some fierce discipline could she hold back her assault; she threatened to explode. 

His fists now possessed the power to end her with one blow. They both knew it – he watched her eyes analyze his new strength for frailties. 

She leapt to attack. Three kicks tested his blocking skills before Knuckles swung his paw like a mace. She ducked and flipped away, watching. Knuckles spared the smallest of glances at the child. 

She tried again: raising one knee to mount an invisible step she leapt up and booted him with the ball of her foot. Knuckles guarded his head like a boxer and let his fists take the shot. He raked the air with paws encased in metal weights. 

"C'mon, _echidna!_ Hit me!" 

Knuckles proceeded to comply, but she danced out of his reach, laughing. "Bring it, you big, dumb ox! Right here!" she egged, pointing at her nose. The punch hit air, and her kick hit hard. 

Knuckles stumbled back, and she cackled over wheezing breaths of air. "It must … hurt to be so stupid!" While he stood up she took the time to pant. "You … haven't learned …" 

He marched for her tired form. 

"I've been training since the ARK. … You can't … beat me," she declared, skipping away from his punches like a snooty ballerina and firing back. 

"I'm just too good for you, aren't I?" 

A gravely chuckle replied, just before he feigned a punch, and switched to a disabling kick. Maybe if he plugged her mouth, she _would_ explode. 

The bat started to weave and hop from left to right, dashing at his flanks. Knuckles mirrored her steps, sometimes lunging to throw her back, but never moving behind the ring he drew in his mind, the arena erected around the girl. The bat was still plotting behind her kicks and her fat mouth – she wanted to duck past him; grab the child. He planted himself like a wall and protected her like a precious treasure. 

Rouge lunged. This time he couldn't stop all her kicks. He clutched the tear she left in his arm. She grinned wickedly, knowing his weakness. 

The bat moved in fast, kicking wildly and slashing at all levels of his body. Knuckles parried, and grunted with every blow that connected. With metal weights encasing his fists, his punches took longer to gear back and release, and she abused these fractions of seconds for all they were worth, not caring for strength, but to out-maneuver his slow arms and test his endurance. 

She raised a knife to the air and thrust. He caught her wrist in downward strike, clamping tight like a vice. Not enough! By the Controller, she was strong! Knuckles threw up his remaining arm, pooled the muscles of both fists to squeezing her bones, pouring his strength to push against her weight. The bat was laughing at his efforts, relishing his struggle like a delightful game and with her free hand reaching back to her belt, she shoved a tazer under his ribs. 

For several seconds he blanked. A blow at his chest that shut down his senses, and when his eyes refocused, his muscles convulsed and a voice screamed in terrible pain. The thief was only a purple smear as she spun her body and finished him with a roundhouse-kick. 

Falling … the island falling. The sanctuary crumbing – he could see the plummeting bricks rush him… 

He crumpled to the ground. 

Knuckles gasped in quick, painful gulps of air. His hands and feet twitched dully under a phantom shock. Ivo had given him a similar parting gift after snatching the Master Emerald and he could hear the doctor laughing again. _Get up!_ he told his body. _Get up! The island isn't safe yet!_

Rouge panted breathlessly and succumbed to the pain in her chest. Adrenaline could feed her endurance no longer; it hurt to breathe. She groped the dent in her armor, the metal wall compressing her diaphragm. _I beat him._ Now, she only needed a few moments to fill her lungs… 

Weak as he was from her electric shock, Knuckles pushed against the ground – he had to struggle; he had to survive. But his body, his last ally, had lost all control and moved in random, spastic fits. He poured his strength into his eyelids, forcing them open. He focused on his breathing, willing great gulps of air in his lungs. He had to find strength, had to keep conscious! The island, the Controller, his people demanded it! 

_The girl._ It tore his muscles to move, but he could see her now – frightened into paralysis by a thousand horrors. She depended on him as well. 

The island was in no peril. The Controller … safe … 

He had come for her – to protect her. 

"Run," he wheezed, throwing his head towards a staircase. If she escaped, hid, he could endure any defeat. 

The bat coughed; her strength was returning. Knuckles saw her reach for the electric stick again. 

_Run,_ he pleaded mentally. Eyes trembling, the girl remained affixed to the ground. Through all their time together she had skipped and dashed to every new and wonderful place – why wouldn't she do so now? 

Tears grew within her eyes. _By the Controller,_ he raged, _RUN!_

As though hearing his every thought, she gasped back her frightened tears and shook her head. The shackles over her legs enslaved her still, but their bonds could not contain her. Stumbling, jerking against her chains with what simple strength she held, the glassy-eyed child crawled over to his side and took his hand; weeping into his palm. 

He had never hated her more. 

_Stupid. Weak. Irresponsible!_ Raw fury cut a murderous scowl deep into the guardian's face. There was _**nothing**_ she could do; why did she stay? _Why?_

He met her eyes and froze, stunned. His mind flashed back through all the faces he had encountered. A celebrity smile could not distract from Sonic's eyes, smirking mischief, filled to the brim with green ego. Behind her costume masks, the bat reflected only hatred in her eyes, unable to know anything more. Ivo … his eyes were hidden in darkness, and a longing for friendship created the illusion of kind smiles where grinned secret malice. 

But he found something unknown in her eyes. He found truth. He found tears that flowed with purpose, sorrow that was not for show. She tried to smile, to smile … for him. 

He knew why she stayed, and his heart fell heavy with shame. The same reason had compelled him to come for her… 

Rouge found her strength and moved for the pair. There would be no discrimination. 

The girl clasped her hands over his paw. The Guardian squeezed back. Even now, she granted him strength, even now when it meant her life. 

Wind chimes sparkled in the distance. To Knuckles, the ring of emerald chords grew stronger, closer with his end. The warmth, the power, the comfort of the Master was closing around him, embracing him. The healing balm stemmed from his palm and spread through his arm, covering his essence like cleansing fire: burning away pain, weariness; igniting new strength. He was free: the greatest comfort, and the deepest pain. To be rid of the island, and the silken chains of the Controller. 

Knuckles opened his eyes. He opened them wider; understanding that this was no illusion, no hallucination; that the fiery calm in his veins came not from death. The girl trembled fierce compassion, and the life-giving squeeze that locked their hands seeped power into his veins. A glow had consumed his palm, and his arm, and it was seeping up his shoulder and blanketing his entire body. 

His eyes – amethyst – ascended to controlling emerald, and his fur beamed out light, shimmering light. The bloody scarlet of his body was cleansing – purifying – until his fur and his spines shared in the brilliant, ethereal rose of the child. 

Firm purpose clenched his new eyes and Knuckles launched himself from the ground, secured buoyantly in the air by chaos and held above the cobblestones. All about him the guardian could see the energies of the Controller as though he swam in an ocean of emerald waves. How effortless it seemed, to suspend himself within the waters of chaos! 

Requiring his attention stood the bat: hissing and flinching before his beaming light. To Knuckles, she appeared blurred and distorted, like a smear of paint, ivory and violet, diluting and dissolving in the sloshing waters. Thinning to nothing in his vision, she carried herself as though she held great power. 

A smile played on his face – not cold or vengeful, simply calm and wise. The chaos field responded to his motions, flashing and crackling around his shimmering body so a perfect sphere of energy appeared to shield his glowing form. 

The warped and stretched-out bat defied intimidation and launched a throwing knife. Knuckles addressed his attention to the object oozing so slowly through his vision, and motioned the waters towards it – inside it, saturating the blade. 

It burst into nothing. 

She should have run, turned and fled; instead the display of power only strengthened her madness. She charged up her electric wand and rushed him. 

Knuckles made no reaction – no shift to fight, no move to rush. With alien calmness, he raised an open paw through the tides of chaos and made a pushing gesture that drove the accelerating energy waves slamming into her chest. 

Rouge skidded down the courtyard, sparks kicking in her wake, and slammed with a sickening crunch, wobbling the brick wall that saved her from a fall. It took some effort, but her mangled and cracked form managed to stir. By then a beacon of power and authority hovered above. 

Knuckles looked down at the bat, tangled in her wings and holding back the blood from her nose. He had come with further intent than to rescue the girl, but now… 

His every heartbeat pulsed in unison to the Controller's melody; all the music, fragrances and beauty within its heavenly dominion resonated through his senses. He witnessed the marvels of creation: Lava burst from geysers, showering liquid fire through the cavernous reefs. Flowers waved in the meadows like dancers, their spices like incense. Wind whipped over the icicle underside of the island, rushing and twisting between the hanging stalactites, flying up through the heavy jungles of mushrooms, skating over the sand dunes, soaring up to the pinnacle of the ancient Icecap and twirling over the grandeur of this skybound paradise. The winds rushed down, gaining speed, burning with laughter and diving through a city of moss and stone, whipping through his dreadlocks. 

Controller, he felt alive! 

He witnessed the sanctuary – sand gathered between the brickwork like mounds of powder in a ravine. Sparkles of blue shrapnel still remained from his battle against Metal Sonic. The vines grew and budded new leaves. Sweat rained down the wasted face of the thief, ragged and panting. 

Infused with the power of the Master Emerald, gifted with sight of its wondrous world, rich and alive with beauty, Knuckles felt a great calm within himself and he could only look down at this pathetic creature with disgust. Was it greed that had compelled her to come here alone and without aid, or had she schemed against the world until there were none willing to bear the burdens of this spiteful, dried-up husk? 

The guardian felt a sad pity for this scheming thing, even now trying to summon the strength to stand and fight him. 

"Leave." 

Panting wearily, she remained on the ground, untrusting. 

"Go," he offered. 

She scraped out of the range of his fists and rose, backing away, yet eyeing him – perhaps not so much for an attack, as she did another chance to seize power. 

"Rouge," 

She stopped. 

He looked upon her sternly. "Give me the radar." 

Her face sneered back at him. "Something else you want to take from me, _Treasure Hunter?_ I haven't got anything left!" 

"The chaos radar. The one you took from Ivo; the one that lead you here. Give it to me, and you can leave." 

Her breath came fiercely for a second. "Sorry darling; ain't following. Gotta go, anyway." 

Before she turned he had her wrist. She gasped as he pulled her close. The guardian reached to her belt and unclipped a small device with a wildly flickering deflective needle. He towed her to the edge of the plaza and threw the machine into the clouds. She aimed an angry punch for his jaw. He caught it. 

The guardian shoved her to the ground and piece-by-piece he removed her armor. He seized the scanning visor from her eyes and pitched it to the ground. He tore off her belt of mercenary tools and let it fall away. Gauntlets, boots; breastplate clattered to the stone floor until she was pacified, shivering underneath her body suit. He gathered up her weaponry and tossed the heap over the railing, where the clouds swallowed her every tool of malice. 

Huddled on the ground, she flinched at his direct gaze. 

"Get off this island," he ordered. "If you ever return, I'll know to throw the rest out." 

Furious, but defeated, the bat struggled to her feet and shuffled barefoot to her ship, sparing a moment to pause and glance towards the girl. The guardian loomed behind the bat and hissed into her ear. "Go," said Knuckles. With a cry Rouge fell back and crawled away.   
  
**

……….

**   
  
Knuckles turned his back to the slithering coil of darkness and his predator eyes softened on the other. Even now the girl was so blissfully happy, so contemptuously mad with joy that she tried to run to him, to embrace her protector. Of course, the chains were still around her ankles. She tripped and tumbled in a fluster of green skirts and skid across the stones. 

Knuckles took in a calming, sure breath and let it exhale with a strong smile, while she righted herself on her bottom and whimpered over the scrapes on her knees. He knelt beside her and waved away the blood and tears with the last of his electric aura. "Seems you manage to get hurt whether your kidnapped or not," he commented as his body regressed to scarlet and as a sleek airship arose from the sky sanctuary and fled the island. _May this be the last time, Thief._

But now was not the time to dwell on that ruined shell any longer. Now was the time to be strong, to lift up this beautiful child and hold her dearly, and to let her smile just a little longer. To think that he would ever care for someone as dearly as his lost friend Ivo. To think that he would ever grow to depend on another – he! Guardian of the Angel Island – as he did this child, this kin, this spirit more than sister and dear as daughter. 

And to think he would have to let her go… 

Knuckles released the glowing embrace around his neck and distanced himself from her smile, now dimming with confusion. 

"I can't protect you," he whispered. "I can't be there for you at all times. I can't keep … this from happening again… I can't allow you to stay." 

Fade smile; fade to cold horror. "I'm sorry," Knuckles shivered with heart pierced once more. He let his ancestors cloak him, as had her saving warmth, let it steel his cold face. 

"Come," he ordered, guiding her to the teleporter. "We change course immediately." 

She tugged, resisted, and for a moment he was ready to consent and let them share one last, long walk. But the call of the island weighed him down, and he could not afford such selfishness.   
  


--------------------------


	6. Dusk

--------------------------

  
  
He left her by the lakeshore, to enjoy what time remained on the still banks and quiet waters. When he deposited her in the meadow, she did not rise – not to chase the beauties of nature or even to dare follow. She sat in a daze, no more than a broken clay doll. 

How fitting that he should now travel to the lava reef, where fire seeped in rivers like the rage in his heart, only to chill itself on the magma rocks and petrify into cold, beautiful crystals. 

How dark seemed the marble tower of the Hidden Palace, the stronghold of the Guardians, buried deep inside the heart of these volcanic caverns where the crystals grew like jagged ferns among the molten rock. The tall cavern of black void that burrowed into the mountains could not inspire him, nor the empty monolith of marble that rose in a last attempt to safeguard the Controller. The Master was in mourning; a lonesome ocarina humming tears through the wind, reflecting the grieving ripples of his existence. 

But he was the last guardian of Angel Island. His oaths, his ancestry would be forever paramount. Since the time he had become aware of his world and the life-giving heartbeat of green fire at its core, chains had clamped shut over his consciousness and shackles had coiled tight around his existence, binding him forever. 

Alone, he took the walkways and suspended roads spiraling up the Hidden Palace. It would be the fox-child, he decided. He knew so few. The inventor was but a little kit, no older perhaps than his child, but the boy would do well to care for her. 

There came confusion and indecision. Would she be safer in the world outside the heavens? By the Controller, he understood her well enough to know the answer! A world where Robotnik and Metal Sonic flaunted their powers? Where filth such as the Thief gathered in vile broods? A world crowded with iron and electricity? Down below none could keep her safe and pure. Not even the kit with his loyalty and care for others, or the Rose in her ignorant and confused happiness; not even that hedgehog. 

By The Controller, _absolutely not_ that idle, careless hedgehog! By no means could the rodent keep her safe; love her, as did he. 

But really, it was all a matter of choosing how to suffer. Why not release her, and weep and hold the bitter taste of her memories? Let her stay, and she would taste the full dangers of the wild he knew like a harsh love. If not the wild that was the island, or the untamed danger of the outside, then the wild that was he. One day, she would try his patience, and he would strike her. He was Echidna, and he was tainted. She would shatter, as had the Controller. 

He took the final stairs to the emerald chamber, to pray to the island's life-source, to guide a course to the mainland and the Mystic Ruins. 

The emerald chimes echoed, ever present around the seat of power; so there was no foresight of the tampering. 

Knuckles stiffened. He sucked in his breath to behold the great violation, to stare at the raised dais, into the empty nest of volcanic crystal where the Controller should have rested. 

For a moment, he was claimed by chaos: to hear and sense the Master all around him, yet to behold the emerald removed from its place of power! _And yet_ … 

He allowed his senses time to calm … and yet he supposed this should not have been altogether unexpected. No. He closed his eyes and set his scowl, and let his mind settle on the presence at his back. 

"It was you all along." He turned and opened his vision and regarded the beautiful child, standing with head bowed and spirits low. 

He could feel her heartbeat – hear the rhythm of power pulsing from her frail body. She shivered, from cold and from fear, and glass chimes sprinkled gloom though the air every time her tail of dreadlocks shook. Here in the hidden darkness, the guardian could see the holy aura shimmering from her thin body, as though she were no more than a projection of light on a screen. 

Knuckles made a careful step – he feared so deeply that this luminous being might disappear. "Why?" he asked. The Controller shuffled between her feet and kneaded her paws, unable to match his gaze, like a child caught in a lie. 

He continued, with dark urgency. "Why did you do this?" Still, she flinched and stared to her feet. 

"Answer me!" 

Her face averted. 

Truth came plainly – _Parasite!_ Again, deceived. Again, toyed and manipulated. Always pulled and dragged along like a puppet on strings! 

Hunger and darkness. Nights of thunder. Bitter rain; numbing cold. Hunger and darkness – only companions to his mind. Crawling through the hard land for the uncaring stone that offered no answers. 

Why wouldn't she answer? By Chaos – his anger grew so great, he wanted to grab the child and shake the answers from that whimpering face! 

"ANSWER ME!" he bellowed, so caught within anger that he did not realize the fists shaking her arms, or the scream blasting in her face, until he heard the snap of her fragile bones and the press of soft, unsupported flesh between his paws. 

Her arms dropped limply once he let go and stepped back, so steeped in horror that his amethyst strength mirrored the tears found in her eyes – tears that made him stop and drop to his knees. 

He fell at her feet, dreadlocks cloaking his anguish. 

_Chaos, what have I done?_

She barely perceived him – so great was her shock; so surprised were the eyes that turned without understanding to question arms that could not lift; ribs that could not expand; could not breathe… 

Sweat beaded around her forehead, convulsions trembled up and down her body. Her eyes lolled into her skull and she collapsed to the cold floor. 

He realized all too late what had happened; all too slowly he cried at the crash of shattering chimes, the mighty organ falling to pieces, the crystals splitting open like falling stars. All too late he crawled to her side, and touched her face with tender delicacy. 

"I'm sorry!" he panicked and fumbled, while his eyes roved for some saving grace, for a steady rise and fall of chest, not this sickly, spasmic jerking of a crushed body. "Don't … don't leave!" He seized her paw in his haste, and though he crushed her all the more to squeeze it tight and press her cold palm to his face, he had to hold on. He had to hold on. 

_Please, I… I don't want to be alone. If you never speak, you'll still be more to me than I've ever had._

Even now it was too late. Even now, her luminous body grew glassy and transparent like a spirit or a sculpted crystal, and the fingers within his grasp began to fade and slip through his hold like mist. "No … " he pleaded. "_No…_" 

Her eyelids fluttered weakly. Her precious soul-windows of emerald turned to him, the sobbing wreck of bloody fur grabbing at her hand and whimpering apologies. And from behind her dying pain, she smiled with a smile that knew no hate, no malice, not a single wicked or spiteful notion. She smiled with the last of her dissolving light, a smile of pure love. 

Knuckles held back his shaking, and contained the tears from his eyes. Fighting the unbearable loss, the hollow collapse, he struggled to lift his own mouth, managing a trembling, weak smile touched with tears. 

Slowly, the fading light of her body shrank away, like a golden sunset passing beneath the waters, and a glow of green moonlight spread around her darkened figure. 

She faded. Where once she rested in his arms, beads of pearly light wafted through his grip, a mist of emerald that sprinkled and floated and disappeared like dust beneath the moon's glow. 

But the moonlight remained, and shone upon his solitary back in a cold spotlight. The dark glow had risen steadily with every dying heartbeat of the sweet child of pink fur; now it stood in full strength. The guardian turned to address the source of this projection. 

Crumbled into crystal fragments, its melody broken into drops of water in the darkness, the shards of the Master Emerald lay in a heap on its bed, each piece flickering on and off with a wounded light. 

And Knuckles, fighting the hollow collapse of his existence, rose against the pains of his world, and trudged over to heal his ward, his daughter; his purpose.   
  


--------------------------

  
  
Why the Controller had chosen this form, he would never know. He doubted he would ever understand this being beyond all power and above all reasoning, which soothed him with a comfort that scarred his heart and drained the light of his face. 

His days ached with loss, but he remembered his oaths. He was protector of the Angel Island and guardian of the Controller – still young and newborn and uncomprehending of its dangerous power. 

_To weather all obstacles. To stand against all. To endure._ Such was the life of a guardian, and thus would he continue his damned duty of penitent love. 

"I will always protect you," he would whisper to her close form, lighting the darkness of the palace. "I will keep you safe. I will be your strength." 

He felt afraid, now he recognized this power that he guarded and had guarded all his life. It seemed more precious to him than ever before, more fragile than the sculpture of glass could ever be. To Ivo, to Chaos, to the Thief and to his own flawed outrage. How routinely he had failed her; tasted her loss like oil on his tongue. How deep would that pain reach if he failed her once again? 

It was suddenly _he_ who was unfit to stay, the protector, _he_ the one unworthy and unprepared for the wilds of the outside. 

And in those darkest moments, warm winds would lift him up, and the gleam of chimes would remind that he too had a source of strength to fall upon. 

He was never alone. The Master Emerald continued to lift up his homeland, and it's song carried on and over the world. When all stood calm, it was a celestial harp plucking strings of peace beneath the moonlit night. When there hung great sorrow, it was a violin humming tears through the wind. 

The Controller still filled the air and his lungs, and so he counted off the days neither victory nor defeat, but a continued endurance. 

Some days he could see her still, if he shut his senses and opened his mind to the auras of energy. He could see her spirit dancing through the wild flowers as a summer breeze, or chasing the falling leaves in an incredible delight of life, always smiling, always knowing joy. And then he would return her smile, return the gestures of warmth and hope she delivered. At times her smiles were so real, so present, that he imagined her innocent gaze staring him down, wet nose ready to bonk his own, ready to blow all his anger away in a puff of air. And at those times he would throw open his eyes to meet her face. 

But all that remained was the heart of green glass, and the innocent song of wind chimes and the precious memories of his beautiful burden.   
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F I N   
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July 11, 2004---_Tylec Asroc._


End file.
